


Waiting Game

by bumblebeesknees



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic, Established Relationship, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 13:05:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12133113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblebeesknees/pseuds/bumblebeesknees
Summary: Magnus has never hid the fact that he’s endlessly curious and an unabashed snoop, but the ring he discovers in Alec’s dresser is genuinely by accident. He thinks he can wait for Alec to reveal this secret in his own time.-The box is made out of a dark mahogany. When Magnus picks it up with shaking fingers and without conscious thought, he sees that it has the marriage rune seared on the side in deft, elegant strokes.But that’s just absurd, Magnus thinks as his mind comes to the only logical conclusion. It can’t possibly, possibly–





	Waiting Game

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! this story was initially intended to be a happy "malec get engaged!!!" fic BUT as you can tell from the tags that is not exactly what it ended up being. i can promise you though that this is ultimately a hopeful story about love and forgiveness and the sometimes painful process of getting to the same page before finally moving forward.
> 
> thank you as always to [partnerincrime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/partnerincrime) for the beta - any remaining mistakes are my own.

On the long, _long_ list of things Magnus absolutely abhors, shadowhunters and their arrogance and their dull, oppressive establishments are chief among them. Alexander Lightwood, and his sweet morning kisses and the guileless way he drowsily murmurs, “Love you,” into Magnus’ shoulder as he drifts off to sleep, however – well, on an equally long list of things Magnus loves, those are the top three. A choice between going to bed in Alec’s room at the Institute and going to bed without Alec there isn’t a choice at all. 

And now, after the mess with Valentine, the seelies, the disturbing lack of news on Jonathan’s whereabouts, and the dissatisfaction from the downworld on the Accords – Alec has been particularly exhausted. If Magnus can save him the twenty minutes of commute time some days and still have Alec curl around him every night, then it would be remiss of him not to do so. 

Tonight’s one of those times. While Alec is in the bathroom brushing his teeth, Magnus rifles through the dresser in search for a sweater. A particular sweater: the deep, forest green one that Alec had been wearing a couple weeks back, worn soft with age and the sleeves falling just short of his wrists. Magnus associates it with the kind of warmth that’s most appealing when it’s knee deep in autumn and its crisp morning frosts and dark, drafty evenings.

“You know,” Magnus says out loud, knowing his voice is carrying through the open door to the ensuite. “I admit that I’d never be caught out in public in the kind of clothing you normally wear, but they _are_ excellent to sleep in. Very comfortable.”

“They’re comfortable all the time,” Alec calls back. His words come out garbled because of the toothpaste, and Magnus has to bite back a smile even though there’s no one around.

It’s strange, how Magnus hoards these quiet bursts of joy. As though they’ll be stolen, plucked out of Magnus if anyone but Alec knows of it. Everything still feels so – so elusive. Happy and hopeful, but also tentative. Something to nurture, to be considerate with.

Still, Magnus’ thoughts are content and his hunt through the dresser is almost absent. It’s why it takes Magnus a second to understand what it is that tumbles into the corner of the drawer with a soft _plop_.

When his brain catches up with his eyes, however, Magnus feels the breath get knocked out of his body, cold shock coursing through him. 

It’s a jewellery box. But Alec doesn’t wear rings or earrings. Even the ones that Magnus wears don’t normally come in boxes like this. The dimensions can’t have it be anything else though, and that’s the detail that burrows into Magnus’ mind and takes root, more so than the appearance of the box itself. It’s made out of a dark mahogany. When Magnus picks it up with shaking fingers and without conscious thought, he sees that it has the marriage rune seared on the side in deft, elegant strokes.

But that’s just absurd, Magnus thinks as his mind comes to the only logical conclusion. It can’t possibly, _possibly_ –

Except when Magnus flips the box open, he finds that it is. There can’t be any doubt that the ring with its inky black stones was crafted with Magnus in mind, that the delicate runes etched on the heavy silver was engraved by anything other than Alec’s careful hands. And the runes themselves are an embodiment of everything Alec would associated with a marriage: not just the one for wedded union, but also for fortitude and courage and endurance and love. 

There’s no way to explain this away. To pretend that this isn’t for Magnus, that this is a gift for some other occasion.

Magnus very carefully closes the box, spells it so it’s back to where it was five minutes ago. From the bathroom, Magnus hears the water stop running. Only centuries of experience in compartmentalizing allows him to tuck away this discovery from his thoughts, if only for now. 

He goes back to his search, starting with another drawer. If Magnus was distracted before, he’s paying absolutely no attention to his search now. What he _is_ paying attention to is the soft falls of Alec’s footsteps walking back into the bedroom, the heat that emanates from Alec’s body when he pauses behind Magnus and peers over his shoulder. 

“What exactly are you looking for?” Alec asks curiously. Magnus has to stop himself from breaking out into hysterical, manic laughter. “You look like you’re ready to turn in already.”

“I’m – that green sweater of yours,” says Magnus, not turning around and continuing to useless push around various articles of Alec’s clothing. How does his voice sound so normal? 

“You want to wear that to sleep?” asks Alec. He sounds confused, but in a non-committal way, and gently nudges Magnus to move out of the way. “Huh, I thought I showed you where I kept all my winter stuff the last time. It’s on the top left.”

Magnus steps aside without fuss. He watches, as though from a distance, the movements of Alec’s broad shoulders as he pulls open the drawer Magnus had found the ring in. Within seconds Alec pulls out the sweater, passing it to Magnus without fanfare.

“Here you go.”

“My hero,” says Magnus, not looking away from Alec and not doing anything with the sweater except clutching it in an increasingly firm grip. Alec smiles a little, presses a quick kiss onto Magnus’ mouth before going to check his phone one last time for messages and climbing in to bed. Relief passes over Alec’s face as he settles in, his edges softened with much needed sleep. There are dark smudges under his eyes. The wings of his clavicle seem just a little too prominent where they peek out of his collar, and Magnus wants to make him pull the sweater on instead to warm up his bones. 

Alec’s acting like Magnus’ outlook on his whole life hasn’t changed in the last two minutes, like this is just another night to be spent sleeping in each other’s arms. Magnus stares at Alec, silent and uncomprehending, and when Alec notices, he raises his eyebrows in question. 

“What’s going on?” he asks, frowning. 

_I should be asking you that,_ Magnus wants to say. The words are actually gathering in Magnus’ throat, waiting to burst out. _Why are you going around buying wedding rings?_

“Magnus?”

“Sorry,” says Magnus, blinking rapidly. Alec wants to marry him. This should not be the most shocking thing to happen within the course of Magnus’ considerable lifespan. “Just thinking about how I really need to spirit you away to spend a weekend in the Alps to recover from all this.”

“Recover from what?” asks Alec, and Magnus just shakes his head and finally pulls on the sweater. There’s a brief moment when all of Alec’s scent, clinging to the wool, engulfs Magnus’ senses. Alec wants to marry him, and instead of saying so he just obliviously goes, “This is the first time I’m hearing that you want to go somewhere that isn’t sunny beaches or art museums.”

“Hush,” says Magnus, crawling under the duvet and curling up against Alec. “I have diverse interests.”

“Mm hmm,” says Alec. “But they don’t include snow.”

“They include you, naked, and in front of a fireplace with the snow safely falling outside the walls,” says Magnus, and the growing tenderness in his chest becomes almost unbearable when Alec huffs out a soft laugh. 

“You’re something else,” he says, pressing a drowsy kiss on top of Magnus’ head. It’s all the sign that Magnus needs to snap his fingers and have the warm lights of the room flicker out. 

“Good night, Alexander.”

“G’night,” sighs Alec, and it’s a testament to his weariness that he drops off to sleep almost immediately. Alec’s breathing, initially shallow, changes into something deeper, more even. Magnus rests his hand on Alec’s chest, which rises and falls in an offbeat rhythm.

Alec wants to marry him. The disbelief in Magnus doesn’t quite disappear, but it does give way to a huge, unfathomable joy. They’ve only known each other for a few short months. They’ve barely regained their footing from their time apart. Even though Magnus knows with certainty that his regard for Alec is vast and eternal, there are still so many things about the future that is uncertain, as it always has been.

But despite all of those factors, Alec wants to marry him. Somehow, all at once, that’s the only thing that matters and whenever Alec decides the right time is to bring this up with Magnus – Magnus will be damned if his answer isn’t an immediate, wholly honest, “yes.”

-

 

There have been people Magnus has loved with whom he has spent years and even lifetimes with, but it had mostly been a blessed turn of fate. No one has ever asked Magnus, and Magnus has never asked anyone. He’s never been anything so structured and defined, with so many expectations attached to it. Magnus has always been in that nebulous role of a lover, where the definition is fluid and dynamic, a romantic connection between souls and bodies. A husband is something entirely different. The idea of being one is – it’s frightening. The idea of being wanted as one is humbling. 

It’s something Magnus has never considered, seen as something that could be possible in his future. But Magnus had never expected Alec – had never expected what it would mean to be loved by a shadowhunter who is a good man and a traditional one. Who loves Magnus not just between the tangled sheets of their bed, a perfect and untouchable pocket of time and space, but also in the difficult, complicated reality of the world outside the two of them that must be navigated.

Magnus doesn’t expect how much he wants it. 

For the next few weeks, Magnus is on high alert. Every time he sees Alec he can’t help but wonder if today’s the day Alec is going to do it. Broach the topic of marriage. It’s like being back in time, to those first days of their relationship, when Magnus’ heart would jump in his chest every time he’d see Alec’s lovely face, unable to believe that this was happening – waking up next to Alec only to find him looking back at Magnus with wonder and affection.

The anticipation is torturous and exhilarating and Magnus finds himself getting even more distracted by Alec’s long, bare fingers than usual. He knows exactly what he will get Alec to put on his ring finger – a band of smooth platinum. Simple, elegant, durable. Understated enough for Alec to feel comfortable wearing it, but anyone with even the barest understanding of jewellery will immediately know its worth. Magnus will hold Alec’s scarred, callused hand in between his own and slide it on while promising Alec the world if he so desires it. 

This change is not just in his mind, however – Alec’s touch, even when innocent, goes back to lighting all of Magnus on fire. The desire is always there, dormant underneath Magnus’ skin, but the slightest, most seemingly innocuous things set him off. Everything is suddenly new, reframed in Magnus mind from something he has experienced with Alec, his boyfriend who he loves, to Alec, his possible-probable future spouse. 

Like today: Magnus comes home to find Alec vigorously scrubbing the kitchen floor. Clandestine, Magnus’ newest adoptee, is perched on top of the refrigerator and watching the proceedings with great interest. 

“Be careful,” says Alec, when he hears Magnus near. “Andy knocked the marmalade jar off the counter. I think I picked up all the pieces but it still needs a sweep.”

Helpless, Magnus doesn’t know what to say. _You silly, stubborn man,_ he thinks. _I have magic._

“This cat’s the devil,” continues Alec, seemingly satisfied with the state of the floor because he throws the sponge into the soapy bucket of water and sits down on his rear with a sigh. “Yesterday it was a flower pot, and the day before that it was your million dollar crystal decanter.” 

“Sounds like I need to perform an exorcism,” says Magnus, and Alec laughs. It’s a quiet sound of joy and he’s still got these huge, bright pink rubber gloves covering his hands because he took it upon himself to clean the mess Magnus’ awful cat left behind, just as he did the last two nights. 

Magnus loves him so much he can barely breathe with it. He joins Alec on the ground, crawls toward him until he’s between Alec’s drawn up knees. He only has to lean forward just so to be able to kiss that smile. It should be just that – a quick peck on the lips – but Magnus wants more, wants to reach inside Alec and press kisses all over his essence, his soul, and in lieu of that he settles for the heat of Alec’s mouth. One of Magnus’ hands curl into the locks of dark hair at the back of Alec’s head, the other tilting up Alec’s chin before running his fingers lightly along the line of his jaw.

Alec makes a noise, something like a moan but more guttural, somewhere deep from within his chest. His lips, so soft against Magnus’, parts just the slightest bit more, just enough to make a difference and let Magnus’ tongue slide through. He lets Magnus coax that sound out of him again. It’s slow and languorous. Weighted. Magnus feels his mouth buzzing, something hot building in his chest as he realizes with overwhelming happiness that absolutely nothing will change when they get married: he’ll still be coming home to this. 

“Wow,” says Alec a little breathlessly after Magnus breaks away from the kiss. His hands have somehow made their way to the back of Magnus’ thighs. The water clinging to the gloves seeps through Magnus’ jeans but it’s the furthest thing from Magnus’ mind. “What was that?”

“That was a thank you,” says Magnus. “And an I love you. And an apology for Clandestine making your day worse than it had to be.”

“The big three in one kiss, and all because of Andy?” jokes Alec, and Magnus kisses him again because no, it’s not because of his silly cat at all. _You make me so happy,_ he thinks, and adds that to the list of things he’ll say to Alec when the time comes. 

Except the weeks go on, and Alec doesn’t bring up anything at all. There’s that time Magnus is at the Institute and Alec takes him to the ceremonial hall where they had their first, earth-shattering kiss, but Alec just shows him the new stained glass windows because he remembers Magnus having an interest in them. Then their second visit to Japan, a day-trip to see Kyoto in the autumn and eat spiced onigiri underneath the red and gold leaves, sitting on stones by the riverside inside the castle grounds. 

And then there’s the evening when Alec takes Magnus’ hands in his own and eases off each of Magnus’ rings from his fingers as they get ready for bed. Afterward, Alec’s gaze lingers on his bare hands for so long that Magnus thinks he’ll go mad from the anticipation, adrenaline suddenly coursing through his body even as he holds himself perfectly still. The touch of Alec’s skin is hot, and Magnus thinks, _this is it._ But all Alec does is press his lips against Magnus’ knuckles, unbearably tender. 

Before Magnus knows it, it’s past the two month mark since his discovery and they’re heading to the Swiss Alps in December. 

“I really thought you were joking about that,” says Alec. Magnus is lounging on Alec’s bed, watching him try and wrestle his snowsuit into a suitcase because he still seems to think that they’ll be going skiing and not spend the entire week shacked up on the side of a mountain experiencing nothing but each other. 

“A friend of a friend owes me a favour and also happens to own a lovely little chalet,” says Magnus. “It would be foolish of me not to take advantage of it.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’ve got me trained to be ready to go halfway across the world with zero warning.”

“Hopefully your shadowhunters will survive a week without their fearless leader,” teases Magnus.

“Well, my mother’s going to be here to keep things going,” says Alec. “So things should run even more smoothly than when I’m around.”

Magnus scoffs, but stops himself from saying anything when he sees the warning look Alec throws his way. It’s easy enough, especially when he catches sight of Alec pulling something out of the top left drawer of his dresser, small enough to be mostly hidden in Alec’s huge hands.

“What’s that?” asks Magnus, intrigued and alert. He thinks he’s got a good idea of what it could be.

“It’s a present for you, so don’t go snooping around and ruining the surprise,” says Alec easily, tucking it into the suitcase and away from sight and Magnus gapes at how casually he says this. If Magnus hadn’t already known about the ring, he’d have no warning of what was coming. 

Alec collapses back on the bed beside Magnus, blinks his big, warm eyes at him. “Okay,” he says, tangling their fingers together. “I’m good to head out tomorrow.”

Magnus’ palms suddenly feel hot. All his senses are ramped up, and all they can experience is Alec – the sight of his exquisite face, the sound of his idle words, the clean, masculine smell of him. The gentle touch of his rough hands. It’s as though at this moment, Alec is the world, everything and anything that had ever been created that is worth being perceived, and Magnus is being blessed with the whole of it.

“Yes,” says Magnus, and it comes out a little rough. With nerves and excitement both. “Tomorrow.”

-

 

They’re at the chalet for five days. Alec sighs a little exasperatedly at the opulence of the décor but doesn’t say anything that would get in the way of Magnus’ sheer delight. It’s all dark wood and warm, golden chandeliers and an abundance of pillows and plush rugs covering the floor. 

Much to Magnus’ chagrin, Alec manages to convince him to go skiing and exploring the nearby town with minimal effort. All he does is say with his usual straightforward charm, “I’ll just hit the hills for a couple hours early in the morning and you can keep the bed warm,” and Magnus groans because the whole point was that Alec would be keeping _Magnus_ warm. Inevitably it becomes a game of chasing each other down the slope, a competition to see who can outrun the other and no matter the outcome Magnus can’t help but feel like he’s the winner every night when he takes his fill of Alec’s inked skin, indulges him between the sheets with the moonlight spilling through the expansive windows. 

It’s perfect. It’s Tokyo all over again. Alec had given him that omamori at the end of that trip, and he’ll be giving Magnus something even more profoundly cherished at the end of this one. The thought is at the back of Magnus’ mind for the entire length of their holiday.

On their last night there, they curl up together under a soft, gray coloured throw on the sofa trying to curate the truly shocking number of photos that Magnus has on his phone from the last few days. They’ve got a fire crackling, set alight by Magnus’ magic tonight instead of Alec’s ability as a salt-of-the-earth outdoorsman. The wine’s half finished, and when Alec goes to rummage through the cellar because Magnus is suddenly in the mood for Chardonnay which he’s certain the chalet is stocked with – he comes back with something more in his hands. 

“Hey,” says Alec, placing the bottle on the low table in front of them. “I have something for you.”

Magnus, who had already been reaching for his wine glass momentarily freezes. “Oh?”

“It’s what you saw me packing the night before we came here,” says Alec, a fond look on his face. He sits back beside Magnus again, folding his legs beneath him before pulling out a black satin bag and pressing it into Magnus’ palms. Magnus can feel the edges of a small, cubic box. “I’m shocked you didn’t ask me about it at all this entire time.”

This isn’t how Magnus expected this to go, but that makes it even dearer to Magnus. The look on Alec’s face is sweet, expectant. “Go on,” Alec says. “Open it. I got this for you a while ago. A few days after Jace had set off the Sword, remember?”

“Of course,” says Magnus, hands trembling. The day Alec told him he loved him after spending hours searching for Magnus’ body, thinking he’d died. Alec had been thinking about this for all this time?

“I couldn’t figure out what the right time was to give it to you and – I know today’s not a special day or anything, but I didn’t want to wait around anymore, so...”

Alec trails off, a sign that he is self-conscious. Clearing his throat, he says, “You gonna look inside, or what?”

Overcome with a longing so strong that it robs Magnus of the ability to speak, Magnus just presses a kiss to Alec’s mouth and pulls out the box inside, and–

It’s not the mahogany one with the marriage rune burned to the side. 

It takes a few moments for Magnus to even process what he’s looking at: the box is just as elegant as the one Magnus had seen before, but in a way that Magnus associates with himself and not Alec. It’s sleek and made of black velvet, with a hint of steel finishing at the borders. It’s a different box, but that doesn’t have to mean anything, Magnus thinks, even though his heart is racing in a way that has nothing to do with excitement and everything to do with fear, the world as he knows it unraveling underneath his feet.

He doesn’t want to open it. Magnus doesn’t know what he’s going to find in here, but that bone deep instinct that’s kept him alive and mostly whole all these years is kicking in. There might as well be bells and whistles and sirens ringing in Magnus’ head, a cacophony of warning signs culminating into a sudden cold crawling up his spine and sweat gathering at his brow, all saying one thing: he shouldn’t open it. 

But Alec’s hopeful gaze is on him and so Magnus does, and what he finds pulls out an awful, strangled sound from him. 

It’s the ring. It’s Magnus’ ring resting on a crush of soft gray fabric with those familiar, liquid black stones. It’s the same ring, except that all of Alec’s carefully carved runes which had made it _Magnus’_ is missing from the heavy silver band. Magnus has a horrible moment where he wonders if he had imagined it, the tiny etchings for courage and fortitude, and a building crashing on to his chest and forcing the air out of his lungs would be less shocking than this, less painful. 

His fingers shake as he pulls the ring out. 

“Do you like it?” asks Alec, and when Magnus turns to look at him, he sees that there’s a worried frown starting to form between his eyebrows. “Magnus – are you okay?”

Fuck, thinks Magnus, trying to get himself together. Fuck. He’d honestly – Magnus had honestly thought that–

He takes three long, silent seconds to let himself be overrun with grief before he pushes it aside. Instead Magnus focuses on Alec, and reminds himself how it doesn’t change anything. That Alec still loves him and wants to be with him, wants to go to sleep beside Magnus every night and wake up beside him every morning. 

“I’m fine,” says Magnus, voice hoarse. “I’m just – overwhelmed. This is. This is perfect. I wouldn’t have been able to pick out something better myself.”

“Okay, that’s definitely not true,” says Alec, dryly. There’s still something unsettled about his eyes. “Are you sure you’re all right? It’s fine if you don’t like it.”

“You know I’d like anything you give me,” says Magnus, and it’s true, it’s a truth of the universe that Magnus will hoard like the rarest of treasures anything gifted to him by Alexander Lightwood and his heart shouldn’t be breaking as he says, “Which finger is it for?”

Alec doesn’t look placated, but he gives a minute shake of his head before saying, “I figured we could just get it fitted for whichever you decide.”

“Of course,” says Magnus. That makes perfect sense. Of course it does. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Alexander. I love it. I love you.”

“Love you too,” murmurs Alec, and the honesty of it, as always, hits Magnus like a knock-out blow. He curls his fingers around the ring as he leans in to kiss Alec, and doesn’t know how to stop the, _then why did you change your mind?_ from repeating in an infinite loop in his mind.

-

 

Magnus wants to say that things go back to normal when they come back to New York, but they don’t. Or rather – life goes back to the usual, but something fundamental has shifted inside Magnus that leaves him feeling like he’s living someone else’s life. The life of someone who isn’t going to marry Alec.

Alec is just as considerate and attentive as he always has been and even though over the last few weeks Magnus had catalogued more and more reasons as to why Alec is the man Magnus has been waiting for to tie his life to, now it’s even more obvious. Clearer but sharper, edged with the knowledge that it’s not going to happen. Or maybe it will, in an ambiguous future but every time Magnus looks down at his ring and the smoothness of the silver – on the forefinger of his right hand, no fitting required – the sorrow that crashes within him is so vast that it seems unlikely. 

He’s quieter, lost in his own thoughts often and indulging in whiskey more often than what even he knows is advisable. Alec, being clever and observant and generally attuned to the emotional wellbeing of the people he loves, immediately notices something is off. Different. It's only a matter of time until he calls Magnus out on it, but Magnus would rather wait until then than force the confrontation forward. Magnus doesn’t know if he can bear it, to ask Alec outright what happened and listen to him explain what exactly that Magnus did that made him realize that marriage wasn’t a good idea after all.

Or maybe Magnus would find out he had it all wrong – that the runes had another meaning, that the ring was for someone else given to Alec for safekeeping. That those carvings were not made by Alec. Finding that out would be better in some ways and worse in others, but no matter what it is Magnus knows that he’ll come out on the other side of that conversation worse for wear.

But just like the last time Magnus had shut him out, it turns out that Magnus can only delay the inevitable for so long. Alec barely gives him a week to hide away. 

After dinner one night, the weekend after they return home, Alec says, “Magnus, what’s going on with you?”

“Hmm?” says Magnus. He had gotten distracted once more, watching Alec put food and water out for the cats. Patient, responsible, caring. All good qualities to have in a spouse. “What do you mean?”

“Something’s been bothering you since we got back from our trip to the Alps.” 

Magnus stills. Of course, he thinks, following Alec’s progress down the living room until he sits beside Magnus on the couch. Alec had been carefully giving him openings all week to bring it up himself. It isn’t a surprise at all that when the arbitrary timeline ran out in Alec’s head that he would just plough ahead, dive straight into the heart of the matter. 

“I don’t know if it’s something I did,” says Alec, “or if it’s a bad client, or you’re just – not feeling well. But you’ve been distant all week and I think I know the signs by now. You’re hurting.”

Magnus is suddenly aware that he’s almost finished his first drink of the night. He slowly sets down the glass in his hands, feeling sick of himself. When someone gets to know Magnus with the degree of intimacy Alec has, his methods of walling himself off become the very things that give him away, make him an open book.

Of course Alec would pick up on it. Of course Alec would ask after him.

Still, it’s just basic self-preservation when he says, “Alexander, I’m completely fine.”

“No you’re not,” disagrees Alec, placing a comforting hand on Magnus’ knee. “I learned my lesson in letting you keep things in when I should be pushing.” He pauses for a moment before repeating, “What’s going on? You know you can tell me anything.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” says Magnus, and when he goes to kiss Alec in vain hope that it will make him let this go, he finds Alec to be unresponsive. 

It shouldn’t sting like this, not when Magnus had ulterior motives, but it does. 

Alec’s gaze on him is resolute when Magnus pulls back to meet it. “Magnus, come on,” he says. “Give me some credit.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You really think I’m that easily distracted?”

“I’m not trying to distract you,” retorts Magnus. Frustration trickles into his voice but Alec looks almost relieved to hear it. 

It’s that look that makes Magnus feel that this conversation is already growing out of his control. He knows how this will go and the thought of drawing it out is unbearable. To keep looking into Alec’s eyes and have him say again and again that he’s here for Magnus, to listen to him, to help him. Alec will mean all of it and somehow that’ll make the wounds the words leave behind even deeper. 

Alec looks down then, and Magnus follows the line of his sight to Magnus’ right hand where he has been absently twisting the ring. Alec’s ring.

Voice steady, Alec says, “Okay. Then why don’t you talk to me about what you’re not distracting me from.”

“That doesn’t even–”

“What’s bothering you about that ring, Magnus?” 

The silence that follows is unsettling. Magnus stares at Alec, almost unable to believe his candour. He’s just going for it. Like ripping off a bandaid or popping a dislocated arm back into its socket. Magnus’ heart squeezes tight in his chest. “It can’t – it can’t just be that you don’t like it.”

“It is,” says Magnus abruptly.

“It’s what?” asks Alec, not understanding.

“It’s this ring. You’re right.” Disjointed thoughts are coming together into sentences. They string together in Magnus’ throat, a terrible wave of them about to break free. “I hate it. It’s not mine.”

Magnus doesn’t expect to feel better after saying that and he’s right. He feels worse, seeing the shock and hurt flicker through Alec’s face before both are overwhelmed by confusion. 

“I–” starts Alec, seemingly lost for words. He gives himself a moment before going, “Okay, that’s – okay. You don’t have t–”

“I saw the ring that was supposed to be mine, Alexander,” says Magnus, and even he can hear how it sounds. Accusatory, yes, but also – desperate. Pleading. If this is going to get out – if Magnus is going to cut himself open – then he needs to know all of it. “I saw it in that drawer in your dresser weeks ago. In that mahogany box, with the runes. That’s the ring you were supposed to give me.”

It’s as though the slew of words that comes out had been clogging up his lungs, taking up the room inside them that was meant for oxygen. It still isn’t relief, but Magnus can breathe again. 

He waits for Alec to explain. Magnus has put his cards out, told Alec everything he wanted to know. It’s now his turn to pick up where Magnus left off. What Magnus doesn’t expect though is what actually happens: for Alec to move away, for his face to grow pale, for his expression to completely shut down in a manner Magnus has never seen since they got together.

Very carefully, Alec says, “You saw that.”

“ _Yes_ ,” says Magnus, the word torn out of him. “And I’ve – I’ve been driving myself crazy. I can’t figure it out, Alexander. How could you – how could you have wanted to marry me two months ago and not want to marry me now?”

Alec draws in a sharp breath. He doesn’t respond right away, and Magnus doesn’t know how it’s possible to feel even more unmoored than he had been all week but all at once, he does. It’s the first time it occurs to Magnus that Alec might not want to have this conversation despite pushing for it, that there’s a very real chance that Alec’s steady presence might not be there to guide Magnus through whatever it is he needs to figure out. 

Finally, Alec says, “I wish you’d have told me that you found that.”

“How could I?” asks Magnus. “How could I do that when – when it would guilt you into doing something you clearly don’t want to?”

“Don’t,” says Alec sharply. He stands up, and Magnus immediately mirrors him, unwilling to stay sitting and giving Alec that advantage. Not when he has an upper hand on Magnus on everything else. “How can you – that’s not how it is.”

“Then how is it?” demands Magnus. “What other explanation is there? It was barely October when I found–”

“I’ve known I wanted to marry you for longer than that,” interrupts Alec, eyes bright. “I told you I got that for you right after I told you I loved you. And when I said that – it meant something. That I’m here for you, that I’ll always be here for you.” He pauses, as though to gather his bearings and his voice is unsteady as he continues, “It meant that I’m never going to stop loving you the same way I’m never going to be able to stop loving Jace or Izzy. That I don’t want to spend another day without you.”

He pauses to run an agitated hand through his hair. “What else was I supposed to do when all of that was true, Magnus? Of course I went and got you that ring.”

Magnus feels pinpricks at the back of his eyes. “And that’s different for you now?”

“No,” says Alec. He says this plainly, evenly. As though it’s fact. “All that’s still true for me. It’s never going to stop being true for me. I’m always going to choose you, Magnus. I’m always going to want you.”

Something about the way Alec answers sets of alarm bells in Magnus’ head. _It’s always going to be true for me._ As though–

Magnus feels like he’s been pulled taut, alert and tense and one careless move away from breaking in half. “What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing,” says Alec. He crosses his arms across his chest, as though to shield himself. _From what?_ Magnus wants to demand. _What do you have to protect yourself from?_

“You’re the one who wanted to talk about this,” says Magnus. “You’re the one that – that changed your mind–”

“I didn’t change my mind!” snaps Alec, and Magnus reels back in surprise. “Stop saying that. I’m never going to change my mind about you. Izzy said – when I told her that I got that ring, she said that it was too soon but it didn’t – it didn’t feel too soon to me at all. It felt right. I was gonna talk to you about it the day y–”

Alec cuts himself off, forcing himself to take deep, even breaths. Magnus waits for him to gather his thoughts, steeling himself for what’s coming next. 

“Why are we talking about this?” murmurs Alec, looking away. “Why are we arguing? I love you, and it doesn’t matter that–”

“It matters to me,” interrupts Magnus. If only Alec understood how much it matters to Magnus, how in some ways it’s the only thing that had mattered to him since he made the discovery in Alec’s dresser. The expected reality of being married to Alec had consumed Magnus’ thoughts. It had made him deliriously happy in the weeks leading up to their trip to the Alps, had suffocated him with sorrow in the days after. 

If Magnus isn’t going to get that in his future – then he wants to know why. Needs to know, unless he lets this fester inside and consume him whole until he ends up hating the person he loves most for something that isn’t his fault. He is the cause of Magnus’ heartache, yes, but it’s not his fault. 

It’s Magnus’ fault, if anything. For building something up inside his head, for wanting something so badly and being so sure he’d get it that it ended up tainting something real and good and whole.

“Finish what you were going to say, Alec,” says Magnus. “When did you decide you were going to ask me?”

Alec’s knuckles are turning white where they’re tucked into his elbow. He purses his lips, and Magnus can identify the moment when Alec makes up his mind – the boldness, that resolution. It’s like being back at the ceremonial hall, staring up at Alec and being able to pinpoint the exact moment when Alec had chosen his own happiness by choosing Magnus. 

“After you told me about what happened with your step-father,” says Alec and Magnus freezes. 

“Oh,” he says. That’s – that’s not the kind of story that would make a rational person decide on marriage. 

“It’s what made me realize I should’ve asked you sooner. If I had, then maybe you wouldn’t have been so afraid about telling me. I thought maybe you needed something tangible. Something more than what I’d been doing.”

“You were doing everything right,” says Magnus, closing his eyes. Alec held him, comforted him, let it be known that he was there for when Magnus was ready to talk – and when he realized Magnus was falling further and further into that yawning, endless chasm inside himself, Alec had bulldozed through and refused to leave until Magnus could pull himself back out. “Me not being able to talk about – it had nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. My own weaknesses.”

“It’s not a weakness,” says Alec fiercely. “And even if it was – I signed up for that, to cover your blind spots like you’d cover mine.”

The last few months shift in Magnus’ mind, realigns itself under a new perspective, a new paradigm. This is what had been going through Alec’s mind when he had embraced Magnus that night, looking into Magnus’ eyes and stating with certainty that there was no horror inside Magnus that Alec wouldn’t love. Magnus doesn’t know what would have happened if Alec _had_ asked him back then but that’s almost beside the point because Alec _hadn’t_ asked and–

“And then what happened?” 

“And then we broke up a few days later,” says Alec, and even though he has never once brought up that time with any bitterness, never implied that it was anything except an experience he would try to learn from, something about the look in Alec’s eyes right now spends Magnus’ mind spinning. And then we broke up, Alec just said, but Magnus can’t help but hear something else: _And then you left me._

“It was a fight, Alexander.” His voice sounds faint even to his own ears. Throat dry and heart hammering in his chest, Magnus says, more urgently, “You – you said that was a fight.”

“I think you and I both know that wasn’t a fight,” says Alec. He sounds almost wry, as though he is embarrassed at himself for ever saying so. “But I needed to pretend it was, and – it was good of you to let me. For giving me another chance to try and figure out how to be. What I need to do differently. What we have to change.”

For a long moment, Magnus can’t speak. He doesn’t even know where to start with that because it’s all – this is all wrong. This is all so wrong. Alec shouldn’t be thinking any of this. 

“Alexander, you – you don’t need to change anything.” Magnus finally finds his voice, and it comes out rough, broken. “I don’t want you to change how you love me. How you love me is the kind of love I’ve been looking for my whole life.”

Alec has loved Magnus wholly and bravely. He has been careful and gentle, sweet in his eagerness to learn from Magnus, in his eagerness to learn _with_ him. When Alec makes mistakes, he does everything he can to make it right. The ferocity of his desire to do good makes Magnus’ knees weak, sometimes, as does the ferocity of his desire for Magnus. 

But because Magnus’ heart being crushed three different times in three different ways in the last ten minutes wasn’t enough, Alec’s response when he finally speaks is, “You _should_ want me to be different. You should want better from me and tell me what I’m doing wrong because – because I think we’re both decent people who want to do the right thing. Who love each other. That should have been enough but it wasn’t. And in a marriage – I think in a marriage it has to be.”

Magnus is shaking his head. This is wrong. This is all wrong. 

“That was war, Alexander.” 

“I get that,” says Alec, and he suddenly seems weary in a way he hasn’t looked in months. Magnus is reminded of the night that started it all – with his hunt for Alec’s green sweater – and how Alec had looked that night. “But family isn’t circumstantial. It can’t be. Not to me.”

And put like that, there’s nothing more Magnus can say. To Alec, marriage means family and family is permanent, unwavering. Somewhere along the way Magnus had become Alec’s family, and then subsequently lost the honour without even being aware of either occurrence. The magnitude of the realization leaves Magnus feeling as though he’s been burned hollow, only ashes left inside. 

The fight drains out of him then. The idle plans he’d been making of a summer wedding with yellow daffodils blooming under the spill of the warm, golden sunshine seems to disappears into smoke. Plans of seeing Alec make this loft his home. Even as Magnus knows that all that is very well in their future, having had it so close to his grasp makes the reality of having miles still left to go an impossible task to pursue.

“Okay,” says Magnus. The loss that had gripped him throughout the past week is nothing compared to what’s clawing at him now. “I understand.”

Alec’s arm jerks a little before he catches himself, folding them across his chest once more.

“I love you, Magnus,” he says, quiet. “And I want to marry you one day.”

 _Just not right now_ , thinks Magnus. _Not anymore._ Because isn’t that what started it all? Magnus wanting to know why Alec didn’t want to marry him anymore when at one point he did. He had bought a ring and carved a box and poured his heart and soul into a band for Magnus to wear on his left hand. 

“Is that okay?” asks Alec.

He's looking at Magnus as though Magnus is about to break his heart. Break his heart again, thinks Magnus, pull at the delicate stitches that had previously put it back together, the pieces not yet healed into something whole. Back to what it was when Alec was fearless with his love for Magnus. Back when he had no doubts, however subconscious, about their ability to endure.

Magnus isn’t going to do anything to set them back again. 

“Of course that’s okay,” he says, and something in Alec seems to be cut loose and set free – he strides toward Magnus and gathers him in his arms, and it’s the easiest thing in the world for Magnus to clutch him back, rest his chin on Alec’s shoulder. The relief on Alec’s face both fractures something inside Magnus and heals it all over. He will do whatever it takes for Alec to get back his trust in them again, Magnus promises himself, even if it’s the last thing he does. “Of course it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading and please feel free to drop a comment to share your thoughts!


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